The world kept whispering, “You can trust us.”

She had learned at a very young age they were lying.

But one day she broke. One day she gave in. She chose to trust someone.

And when the world found her suicide note, they had no response. Three words explained her cruel reality.

He betrayed me.

"Peas again! Ugh, I'd rather have corn or cauliflower." thought Marylyn, as she shifted her feet under the table. Suddenly her cold, bare foot touched something hairy and warm. She choked back a scream. What kind of a monster was lurking under there? Finally she worked up the courage to look and discovered...her brother’s leg.

When you’re young,

you have milestones set

with ages in mind-

some ideas hopeful,

some ideas feeling more concrete.

I suppose it isn’t until

the passing of time

that we realize life isn’t quite

as in our control as expected.

For this I smile;

milestones change with age,

but young me would be proud now.

It was a total eclipse, so rare these days knowing the state of things.

I wouldn't let myself miss the opportunity so, applying my gear, I made my way to the surface and basked in the odd, fractured glow of the sun which casted thousands of cloud-like shadows on the ground from the shattered moon.

They found him at the train station on a Friday after the work rush, watching with grey eyes, dangling little black boots over the edge, above the tracks. He didn't speak. Just came with them when they asked and let them look after him. They always wondered if he remembered whom he'd been waiting for.

"Would you like to do the honours? You used to be a med student, right?"

"Is it scary?" I've heard it is.

"Not really, Or, I don't think so. It doesn't look like it is." The nurse smiles.

"Alright." I pick up the needle. Watch it go in, press, sigh.

Time of death: 9:01

I was pretty okay with being a kid.

I sat still and soaked myself in the lulling waters of childhood. It's empty now. I didn't want to be older. The haze of girlhood--something to be penetrated and dissipated--was unknown to me.

There are hollows in the ground from where I stand still and look back.

Seeking asylum from the storm, I derive shelter beneath the branches of the ancient oak. The storm howls as it struggles to free itself and the clouded canopy rains down upon me. My spirits put out, I rekindle them and seek refuge once more, casting away my protector as the lightning sets its branches ablaze.

There is a children's novel where a girl living in the Dust Bowl accidentally picks gasoline instead of water to throw on her mother when her skirt caught fire. It is the split-second decisions that make or break us. We all have scars where our actions lit a match when they should have saved, instead.

There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

After all the twists and turns through this labyrinth, she found herself at a dead end with her captor closing in behind her. Looking around, there was nothing she could do but turn and face them.

“Ms.Stacy, detention is NOT over yet!“

Sigh. Three hours to go.